One,Two,Three : 2 shot
by CallMehTehOdd1
Summary: What Lady dosen't know won't hurt her. So surely pretending to be Dante won't irk her in the slightest, will it...? Vergil tries to get in Lady's pants after spending months in Hell dreaming of her - but what does Lady have to say about that? SWEARING!
1. One, Two, Three

**Swearing! I also order you to enjoy my total randomness! (I love Vergil and Lady gettin' together, dunno why though.)**

* * *

Her skin, blazing like diamonds with sweat, under the flash of the night clubbing lights, caught his attention again, for the fourth time that night - even after he promised himself he wasn't going to look.

The Lady's hips where swinging, and she was dipping low on the ground again, grinding against another man.

The man looked like he'd won the lottery.

He was no Sparda, with his black locks and green eyes. He was also extremely drunk, and passed out not long after Lady swapped partners.

She had traded her usual tiny purple shorts and white blouse for something that he much preferred: a tight, black dress that ended mid thigh and started mid cleavage. It hugged her waist, her chest and hips - the rest was loose material, pinched at the top to give it a bit of style. Her boots (and this was his favourite part of all), had been replaced by a pair of high heels that had little silver studs on them, and propelled her to rival even his height. And she had applied smoky eye make-up, and subtle gloss to her already luscious lips. And even better - her hair was longer than he remembered it, and although it stuck to her forehead and neck in some places, it was curled in massive barrel curls that made her look so innocent.

_So, insanely innocent._

Vergil knocked down his drink with a careless flick of his hair, savouring the sight of her throwing her body around, almost fervently, so sweet before his eyes. He wondered if he could make her do the same thing…?

Lady saw him through the crowd, and gave him a small smile.

Nothing more than a twitch of her lips, almost sneering, if he was going to be honest with himself, but he still liked the way it looked on her. He liked the way alot of things looked on her.

Like, for example, him.

He knocked back another drink.

_Tonight_, he reminded himself._ I have no cares. No obligations._

But with the way she was moving, her chest bouncing, arms high in the air with a fragile grace - although he'd been on the wrong end of it, he knew just how 'graceful' she was - he might be obligated to go for round two. And round three. And round four.

_Tonight, I will let my emotions run riot with me. I will not suppress, nor express, anything unnecessary._

He smoothed a hand over his coat, taking one last look at his true self in the bar's mirror.

_Tonight, I will tame the fire that is Lady._

He shook his hair, making sure it was in place, and then flicked his collar up for a little...zest. He unbuttoned his coat, revealing his chest, and loosened his belt so his pants somewhat slipped upon strong hips. His 'V' was bare, and he knelt down to untie the lases on his boots. Every detail would only get him closer.

He wondered briefly if kidnapping her was the way. It should surely be easier than pretending to be his younger twin that he despised with a burning passion from which the deepest depths of Hell had flared in his soul - and he should know.

The lights changed so that they were just flickering on and off over and over. It was fascinating watching her dance like that, in those lights. It was as if she was dancing for him, pulling him in like a worm on her hook. He could only see a few discreet dips of her hips and flips of her hair.

How he longed for her body.

He made his way, effortlessly through the crowd.

Funny, they did not avoid him like usual - maybe it was the blue coat he'd traded for red? - and instead flocked to him in waves.

He tried to weave between them, twisting and turning - but still stuck in the knot of sweaty, dirty people, until a particular pair of hands caught his wrists and rather harshly yanked him out of the tangle.

"Dante." Lady growled, half dragging him to the other side of the dance floor.

There was, funnily enough, a time where Dante was his sun, Earth and moon. He'd do anything for him, all he had to do was name it.

But now? Dante had something that he wanted, and after all, brotherly love _was_ all about sharing.

He did not dare speak. His brother had perfected mimicking his voice from their younger's years of pestering him, no doubt, but he had no idea how Dante spoke these days.

Howdy?

G'day?

What's up?

Possible, although not probable.

"What are you doing here? You know it's my night off, damnit!"

The Eldest Sparda brother lowered his eyelashes, seemingly taking the verbal abuse like a disobedient child.

Even now, telling him off, he couldn't help but gaze longingly at her human splendour. Her skin, lily white from under exposure to the sun, looked almost as soft as a rose's petal. Although this rose had her fair share of thorns.

"Dante, seriously, what are you doing here?"

He raised his eyes to hers, his lips curling upward.

Would he dare speak? Put his whole plan in jeopardy?

No. Of course not.

He lifted a hand and showed it to her, his palm itching to grab a fistful of her curls and pull her into his arms.

But he didn't.

He slowly put it on her bicep, and although she flinched to hit him at first, swiftly grabbed her wrist and then her fingers, linking them with his.

"What the Hell?" she made to wrench her arm away but he grabbed her other her gently, and took a calculated step forwards.

Vergil did not know a lot about 'wooing' a female. He usually walked into a place, found a woman with a nice figure and said: 'I want you. Now.' And if they chose to turn him down? He'd take them anyway. He preferred it that way.

The lights chose then to stop, and float around, in a figure eight that was circling them but never really landing on their faces. A few time, the glare hit the corners of their bodies but never their faces.

If they had, the other would've seen Vergil almost morbid impatience or Lady's flushed and embarrassed cheeks.

The light was blue, which Vergil thought was his most flattering colour.

Would she recognise him in this light?

"So, what? You're here to dance?"

_And so much more._

Instead, he nodded, slowly, and wrapped an almost tentative arm around her waist, drawing her close to his chest.

"Oh, no you don't. You'll dance with me, then you'll think you own me." She took her arm away from his hand. "There is no way."

He frowned slightly, but gently pulled her back into his arms.

_If she doesn't stay put, I'm taking her by force._

She sighed, and pushed him away, instead turned her back on him.

He was about to growl, about to speak, or yell, or maybe stamp his foot.

How dare she turn _her _back on _him_? Her superior?

But then she put his hands on the front of her hips, and began to sway with him in time to the music.

Her skin was blazing even through the thin fabric of her dress and within minutes he was no better – they were bumping against each other and speeding ahead of the music.

Maybe it was the demon in him, and the hunter in her, but being faster than everybody else in the room seemed completely appropriate.

Her arms reached up, and ensnared his neck after a few minutes, holding on tightly as they practically had fully clothed sex right there, in front of any body who cared to look.

Alot of people were.

But he didn't care.

And apparently, neither did she.

"You know," she panted over her shoulder, her smoky eyes finding his for only a second before flicking away again - did he spot a blush on those already rosy cheeks? - "This means absolutely nothing. We aren't getting back to Devil May Cry and you have your way with me. I have standards, you know."

At this, he laughed, and pulled her hips tighter against his own, before the music changed to something very tech-no and he was way out of his league in the dancing department.

_Standards? Don't jest, little human! You are the only one who even touches my own standards. They must be high, for my blood surpasses that of normal, common demon blood. How will I ever find a suitable wife to mate with? What woman could ever bare my children?_

With these questions in mind, (he particularly liked where the baby talk was going,) he continued to grind up and down and side to side as Lady's hips drove him above and beyond ecstasy.

Almost orgasmic.

**Almost.**

He liked this new, expressing of emotions. Perhaps her should do it more oft-?

Dante just walked through the door.

The Dante.

The Actual Real Dante.

Oh, dear. He did not see this one coming.

Vergil saw alot of things, and planned ahead with precise detail he had acquired over the years. He was prepared for pretty much everything, and took immense pride in his planning ability.

_This. Was. Not. Planned._

He felt the thrill of unexpected shock run through his usually numb veins, then grabbed Lady's hand and dragged her to the door. He liked these emotions. Expressing them was partially difficult after suppressing them for so long, but, his needs where what brought him here, so he was going to … how did humans phrase this? 'Roll with it'?

These feelings were like instinct. They made his already sharp and flawless moves even faster - he believed that he was experiencing an adrenaline rush.

"Air." was all he said for his explanation.

Had she heard him? Heard him and not Dante? Had she seen Dante - the real Dante?

No, no, and no. He was overreacting. Being silly. Had he ever, in his entire immortal existence, ever insulted his own intelligence?

No.

So why would he now…?

It must be the emotions… He mused, ever ready to blame something human on his own personal issues.

She stumbled out after him in those heels - which made her already shapely legs very fine, indeed - then half hid behind his red covered back.

"Hell, when did it get cold out?"

Vergil shrugged, as he supposed Dante would do.

His mind was in over drive.

It wouldn't take Dante long to catch his scent - he was sweating, after all, and that only amplified matters - and follow him outside.

With Lady.

_His_ Lady.

And take her away.

When she was _this _close.

Perhaps he should just pinch her nerves, send her to sleep the easy way...? But he so enjoyed when they fought.

Noticing the shivering girl, he shrugged out of his coat and held it out to her, purely because that is what his heart told him to do. Lady rose an eyebrow at it, perhaps suspecting this as some kind of come on?

But he was trying to be… although he dare not think it too loudly, as to jinx himself…_kind_.

"So chivalry isn't dead." she mused, taking it and pulling her arms through the far-too-big sleeves, wrapping the belt tightly around her tiny little waist. It was longer than her dress, and that made Vergil sour slightly, but he brightened considerably when she linked her arm through his.

"Time to go home?" she asked, yawning behind her hand.

_Ah,_ he thought with a sigh of relief as he began to walk. _She's given me an escape. I didn't even need to convince her of leaving, even when she looked like she was enjoying herself._

He took a side long look at her, then smiled softly. How such a soft smile set his little black heart on fire, even a little, was far and beyond him. All he knew was, Lady looked like she'd just melted into a puddle and culched his arm a little tighter.

"Indeed." The word, so smooth and so very _formal_, slipped.

She jumped at hearing his voice, and narrowed her eyes at him slightly, pausing in their rapidly growing stride, but continuing one he tugged on her arm in a very brash manner.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid! Dante would never say the word 'indeed'!_

He shrugged, and this seemed to please Lady. Apparently Dante had no use for verbal communication - which worked to his needs perfectly. He could still hear the music thumping through the thick concrete wall as they made their way down the dark street. They both walked onwards with out comment, or without fear, because they were both well aware of what laid, hidden, in the dark - and they could both handle themselves all too well.

Vergil made a bold move, and deftly stroked the inside of Lady's forefinger.

She curled it around his, rather timidly.

Neither party looked at the other during the exchange.

He took this as an invitation, and quickly engulfed her small hand in one of his own.

_Who knew holding a woman's hand is harder than ruling the armies of Hell?_

Lady began to drift off - even Vergil could see she was in another world with out looking at her fully - and lead her in the direction of his hotel room.

It was nice, and spacious, and he had made a few alternations on the room he was sleeping in - like sound proofing it.

_This_, he thought hungrily, trying not to look at Lady curled into his side like she was,_ is going to be so much fun_.

The hotel itself was an off cream colour, with a flat roof that provided quite the view of the city's lights, at night, if one was to wonder. His room was on the top floor, and it took up half the East wing - because he had money to spare and he did not want to be interrupted.

"Dante," Lady said, a little frustrated, and a little apprehensive as they walked into the lobby.

It was brightly lit, and the bell boy gave her a cheesy grin.

Vergil did not like that, but he tolerated it.

"Dante," she repeated, taking her hand away from his. "Remember? I have standards? You are not seriously going to take me into a hotel room and bang me, are you?"

Vergil snorted, which seemed a very Dante thing to do, and shook his head, trying to dodge the awkward questions.

"Well, this has freaked me right out. I'll just be going."

He grabbed her wrist and dragged her over to the desk, which she couldn't stop because of her heels. He signed them both in, above Lady's progressively loud swearing.

He ended up throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her up the stairs. He was becoming rather impatient.

"Dante! This isn't funny!" she bellowed, thumping his back.

Vergil calmly opened the door to the apartment, kicked the door locked and closed behind him, and laid Lady on the bed – the lights remained off.

"Dante!" she snarled, lips pulling back over her teeth. "Get off of me-!"

"I am not Dante." He growled, holding her wrists painfully tight. "It would do you a service to remember that."

Lady's eyes widened.

"Vergil." She breathed.

His eyes turned wicked. So she did remember him, hmm?

"Yes."

Lady looked, for a second, oddly enough – scared.

"But you're dead!" she finally chocked out.

"Correction, my dear Lady." He said coldly, brushing some of her fringe behind her ear. She jerked her head away from his hand like it stung. "I was trapped, not dead. I have, however, escaped, and after being subject to numerous tortuous over the many months, you can guess the only thing I dare to crave." He wriggled an eyebrow in a severely immature and perverted manner.

Lady narrowed her eyes at him – forgetting just who she was dealing with, it seemed - and flipped him onto his back.

_Excellent. Play right into my hands, my little Lady._

"I _can _guess. And I am fucking _appalled_."

Vergil chuckled, and raised his head off the mattress some.

"So tell me, Lady Mary-" she glowered at him when he spoke her given name so insensitively – it was still a sore spot.

"You have me pinned to the bed. If you'll notice to your left, I have my weapon just out of reach."

Lady looked, and sure enough, next to his hip – Yamato shone in the dull street lamp light. She gripped his wrists with renewed vigour.

"If you let go of me to snatch up said weapon, I'll have you by the throat in seconds." His eyes flashed. He _was_ having fun with this. He could see the machinery ticking behind Lady's eyeballs. She would conclude that, yes, he was right, and no, she wouldn't be able to mess with him like she messed with Dante.

She had no idea who she was dealing with, apart from Dante's twin brother.

"Or you can try to beat me physically," he suggested calmly, causing her eyes to focus on him. He liked that. "With you're brute strength. Though I doubt it in heels like that."

"Shut up!" she ordered, glaring down at him for just a second. She was looking around the room for help. Any kind of help. A phone? A knife? A FISHBOWL? (A/N: sorry, slightly hyper.) Even a pen would help.

She didn't know how exactly – gorging his eyes out seemed like a good idea.

She glared down her nose at him.

"You set this up. The night club. My night off. Looking like Dante. You set it all up, you slick bastard."

"I did."

"Why?"

"Because you were the last female I saw. It seemed fitting that you were the one I wanted so endlessly in Hell, as it were."

She growled and tried to control her temper, but she was slightly tipsy from a few shots she had done prior to his arrival, and now she knew there was no way she'd be able to come out of this alive.

"Well you can't have me."

"But I will. We can compromise."

She snorted, and tried steady both her ever increasing temper and herself – the room had begun to spin.

"Compro-?" she started in a disgusted voice.

"I won't kill you. I'll leave you and every one you care for alone, in exchange for a night as my mistress." He interrupted, all ready so impatient for her.

"So, I'll be you're little sex slave for a night, in other words."

"Yes." He smirked at those words.

_Sex slave, indeed._

Seeing Lady, perched on top of him in such a burlesque manner made his favourite weapon throb for attention, like that of a barking puppy.

Well, his puppy needed to be stroked.

Both the coat and dress had ridden up to allow Lady to straddle the Sparda boy. Her cleavage was falling out due to the fact that she was doubled over to reach both his wrists.

Her lips drew back over her teeth, and she lifted a hand to back hand him one across the face. But he caught her wrist, which she half forgot he could do.

He sat up, inches away from her nose – one of his hands gripping hers and one of hers digging her nails into his skin quite harshly.

"Or I _will _take you." He said quietly. "It will not be pleasant. No one will come to your rescue."

She flinched back.

He could see he was going to win her over – either way, she didn't really have a choice.

Lady snarled then tried to make a run for the door.

She slammed into Vergil, who pinned her to the floor again.

"Lady Mary," he informed her, over her yells of abuse.

"I WILL NEVER FUCK YOU! EVER! NO! LET ME GO! DANTE! DANTE, HELP!"

Vergil was a little shocked that she called for his brother, but regained his composure and held her jaw shut tight- his palm over her lips. Trembling, submissive lips.

"Choose."

She sobbed – there were no tears, of course, she was feeling the defeat roll over her in waves and could not voice it – and shook her head. How did he know? Her eyes, so full of defiance, watered in a deadly kind of way. He supposed that Lady thought she was invincible, as most humans did, and thought she could get out of anything she pleased.

Well, not tonight.

_No, because tonight...._

"One."

She shook her head and screamed behind his hand. She clawed at his skin, disgusted at both him for doing this to her, and at herself for allowing this to happen. Hadn't she fought her entire life to fight these asswholes?

… _I have no cares. No obligations …_

"Two."

Her eyes narrowed and she kicked out, sending failing punches at his face, which was this close to her swinging knuckles. She cussed violently under his hand, and bucked her hips. This only turned Vergil on in _soo_ many different ways.

_Tonight, I will let my emotions run riot with me. I will not suppress, nor express, anything unnecessary._

He gave her a look. A cold, warning look.

She did not protest, but merely glared, her eyes hardening.

_Good._ He thought sourly. _I like when they fight._

The thing was, he was hoping for Lady to break under the pressure of the threats alone; maybe then he wouldn't have to be so rough with her. Maybe he wouldn't have to make her scream, and she would, in return, enjoy his intimacy?

"Three."


	2. Her Skin

First off, I gotta say thanks to** xXxzeldaxXx** for the totally kick ass reveiw she provided me with that made me want to write up some more - MY ONE SHOT IS NOW A TWO SHOT!! OMG! Also, my grateful thanks to **IsaacSaphire**, who also reveiwed almost immediantly affter I posted : hence the now two shot. I FEEL LOVED!

* * *

**Implied sexual referances, swearing AND CHARACTER DEATH!... so you have been warned.**

Other than that, though, enjoy! TehOdd1 xoxox

* * *

The small woman trembled in his arms, but he did not care - she'd stopped fighting for now, at least, and that was okay with him.

He, himself, was covered in sweat from trying both to restrain the woman half the time (God, she can wriggle) and have his way with her.

Her skin was soft like rose petals, creamy, and red in some places where he had held her down. He had to give her credit though - for a girl who had just lost her virginity, she didn't cry, and that was unexpected. She had screamed, yes, but he _had _given her a choice, which was far kinder than he'd ever been before. It was above and beyond him why she fought him so - and, besides, it was her own fault that she didn't co-operate.

Her head was on his chest, and he held her bruised wrist over his heart, feeling the steady thump-thump under the skin. She was twitching and occasionally tried to pull away, but he wouldn't have that, and held onto her tighter.

He had his other hand woven under her ribs and over her bare back, holding he hips close to his.

Easy access. Just in case.

Vergil was, in all sorts of different ways, a sadist. But he did - on the very rare occasion - enjoy peace every now and then. He had allocated a certain time for his relaxing, and as far as that was concerned - he had another two days to do so.

He ran a knuckle up Lady's spine gently, and felt her curve away from his hand like it was some kind of blade. He supposed in some respect, it was. Lady let a shiver roll down her spine.

"Are you alright?" he asked her softly, speaking into the top of her hair.

She shook her head, and for the hundredth time that night, tried to push him away with feeble and numb arms.

"Lady," he said in a warm but stern voice. "Stop it. I think I'm quite finished for now."

"Yeah," she replied in a croaky voice. "'For now'. In the meantime, I'll just reminisce being _raped_."

He sighed. Of course, he forgot rape was looked down upon here.

"Let me go," she tried weakly, trying to move away from him. "Please?"

He raised an eyebrow and looked down at her, his eyes soft but wary.

She had never even remotely begged before - saying 'please' was the equivalent of 9/11 to him and he was a little more than shocked.

"Why?" he asked coolly, tipping her chin upwards.

Her eyes were angered, but her lips were trembling.

_How I wish I could kiss those trembles away..._

"I've locked the doors, Lady Mary." He warned her. "I won't let you leave until I have you out of my system."

"Well I need to wash you out of mine!" She snarled, firing up since the first initial penetration - she punched at his hands and jaw, twisted and writhed and screamed out abuse and cusses directed at his mother and father.

Vergil waited it out, turning her so the curve of her backside slotted in with the dip of his hips - he was practically spooning a kicking, screaming woman. He wrapped an arm around both of her shaking ones and held her tightly, his chin resting on her shoulder.

She stopped writhing after about fifteen seconds. He mused that she had probably ran out of insults.

"I'm only stopping because I'm sore," she snapped, trying once again to pry his arms away from her. "I'm not even _close _to giving up, so fuck you."

Vergil rolled his eyes._ Must she be so vulgar?_

Bit thinking over her words, he felt an emotion stab at him in the stomach - he recognised it as something along the lines of 'regret', or 'guilt'. When had he known Lady (in the short time period where she had fought him so deftly, therefore staying on his mind in Hell), to stop fighting because she was hurt? Didn't she prove, in the tower, to be as stubborn as the human spirit gets?

But what could he say? _Should_ he say something? He wanted more of her, he was certain of that. Having Lady was not unlike having vodka for the first time - addictive, sensational, unexpected, brain numbing and tempting.

"Did it hurt?" he asked softly, twisting a lock of her hair in between his fingers.

"Yes, it fucking hurt!" she snapped, beginning to wriggle once more. "Now let go of me-!"

And to her immense surprise, he did.

She fell out of the bed, then snatched up his discarded undershirt and pants, got dressed on the floor hurriedly, then ran to the door.

Vergil sighed.

"I told you, it's locked." He informed her, putting his hands behind his head and watching her shake the handle. "And you make my clothes look wondrous, hiding those curves, really, Lady." He smirked. He liked seeing her in his clothes, covered in his sweat and highly flustered. He whished she had laid with him a little longer though.

Lady kicked the door and shouted.

"DANTE! DANTE! ANYBODY!"

Vergil found a frown working over his recently smiling face. Why was she calling for Dante? Why Dante, when he could help her?

_Well, that isn't completely logical_, he reasoned. _Seeing as I am deemed the problem and I won't let her speak to any one else._

"Lady." He called, trying to gain her attention.

She ignored him, and continued to pummel the door.

"I WANT OUT! LEMME OUT! HELP! HELP ME, DANTE PLEASE!"

He was at her side in milliseconds, picking her up by the scruff of her neck. His shirt, so loose on her skin, had to be yanked high over his head, and partially ripped.

He held her to his eye level, and was initially surprised at seeing tears in those bi coloured eyes. His own eyes narrowed, and he set her on her feet.

So she was human after all. He had his doubts, for a time.

She caught the belt loops around her hips and yanked them up high to her waist - glaring at him, and although her tears remained uncried, they were still there.

"What the Hell are you looking at?" she snarled, pushing him in the chest, gaining some kind of personal space.

He took a step back, then gave her a predatory grin.

"You, quite obviously."

Yes, indeed, there was nothing quite like a victim that was unwilling to give up. Lady was still shaking violently, and her tears had retreated - perhaps to defend whatever dignity he had left her with?

"Well stop looking at me! I want to get out, you sadistic bastard! Do you hear me-?!"

He retook his step forward and silenced her, only with a look.

They both felt that was enough said.

Lady, who was leaning back, unawares, was weak of both mind and spirit. He could see that.

And Vergil, who was growing annoyed with her determination not to break for him. Not to be confused with his ever growing respect for just that reason - he admired it immensely. But enough was enough.

He continued to step forward, to which she stumbled back, hitching up the garments that were the only thing keeping her body from being seen or touched.

Lady Mary was beginning to panic in a way she had never before experienced.

"I hear you." He informed her coldly. "Loud and clear."

Lady's back hit the wall and she let out a strangled breath from between her swollen lips.

"Back up!" she ordered him, snarling, though her eyes were wide with fear and apprehension. "I mean it! Fuck off!"

Vergil snickered, then slammed a hand down above the Lady's shoulder, earning a sharp intake of breath from her. He moved close to her, and she practically squirmed, trying not to look away from his eyes that bored into hers with an intense fury she had only ever before seen in her father's eyes. Her trembles doubled. Memories that plagued her nightmares stared back at her, in his haunted, ice cold eyes. Lady couldn't help but shy away from them.

"What do you propose we do?" he asked her quietly. He weighed his chances of survival, then added: "We could always do _that _again."

Lady's lip curled upwards and she shook her head, looking up at him with a face that looked like she was sucking a particularly sour lemon.

"We will never do_ that_ again." She promised him dangerously, curling her fingers into fists.

She was still trembling, and it was making him want her all over again. How _was_ she doing this to him?

"And who are you to tell me that?" he said softly, touching the very tip of his nose to hers.

She whimpered - much to his pleasure and her own distaste - and then seemingly redeemed herself by glowering at him.

"I won't let you." She growled. She crossed her arms in front of her chest in a defensive manner. He smirked.

"You did not answer my question, Lady Mary." He purred, nose skimming over her cheek to her ear. "Who are you, to order me around?"

The little Lady snarled and pushed him away, caught sight of his attire - which consisted of nothing at all - and glared, pulling the pants up around her waist once more. "Who are you to tell me you will?" she snapped, red spreading over her cheeks.

Vergil did not know if it was because of anger or because of embarrassment. He mused that the probability of it being embarrassment over anger was rather high, and smirked in satisfaction. So his body did not go unnoticed? He also supposed that it could've been worse, for her. He could've been deformed, or disgusting, like that of his fellow demon. At least he was human enough in the looks department.

"I am the son of the legendary dark knight, Sparda." He said calmly, folding his arms across his chest. "And that fact should be quite evident, my dearest Lady."

"I am _not YOUR_ dearest Lady." She narrowed her eyes then eyed the door.

"You are in here." He said smoothly, reaching up to gently prod a forming bruise on her throat.

"And I do apologise for that. I was completely unaware that I bite. You'll have to forgive me." He drawled, stroking her jugular vein with the tip of his finger.

Goosebumps broke along her skin and she looked away defiantly, sneering instead at the floor.

He chuckled, completely content for the time being. She was not fighting him - but she was not scare, either. Did this mean she was going to co-operate?

"I hate you."

He wasn't aware how much those words affected him until he realised he was sitting on the bed, holding his chin in his hands with his elbows to his knees. He was numbing himself, not unlike a person who wanted a tattoo would attempt to numb themselves to the needles stabbing their flesh relentlessly.

That what Lady's words had done to him. Stabbed him. Tattooed him. How disgustingly human.

"Let me out." He heard her demand in a pitched voice.

"No." his word, spoken just above silence, was hollow.

"I want to get out."

"No."

He heard her heave a frustrated sigh. Then he supposed she tried the door again, he did not see.

Vergil was, for the second time in his life, numb.

The first time, when his father left him to take care of Dante - that had been tough. It was hard for a mere boy to cope with, but he had to be strong for Dante. He had numbed himself to the point of depression - but he was too numb for even that to make him feel.

_Feelings. What am I, human? I do not need to feel if I can survive._

Still, it didn't stop him hurting. He had, in fact, tried to be nice on several occasions. The ridiculous thing was, he had never failed at anything that he tried; except feeling. How Dante handled it was beyond him.

Vergil was exhausted. Having just come back from Hell, diving into almost endless plans of ensnaring his Lady down to the finest detail - he had forgotten to sleep. Sleep was of the human essence.

So laying down, he linked the tips of his fingers together on his chest. Sadly enough, he would not let Lady go free. He would have to kill her, or take her to Hell with him. He couldn't let Dante be aware of his revival.

With that thought buzzing around his head like a hornet of vicious, unsettling bees, he closed his eyes a fell into a deep, motionless slumber.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Lady couldn't remember ever feeling so damning beaten in her entire life.

Or sore.

Or weak.

Or tired.

Or humiliated.

So she did the one thing that any sane woman would do in that kind of situation - she began to weep. She tried to tame it at first, but soon, like waves pelt the shore, wearing it down - she'd had enough. Her waves of pain and anger engulfed her, and her cool façade crumpled beneath the weight of it all. She didn't look twice at Vergil's sleeping form as she fled into the safety of the bathroom. She closed it with a delicate 'snap', and hoped to Hell it went unheard. Apparently it did, because he did not come in after her.

Lady turned around and kicked the toilet - breaking the lid off the seat - absolutely seething. How dare he do this to her? How dare he steal away something she could not steal back? How dare he make her endure such pain, and embarrassment, and enjoy the sound of her cries? How _dare_ he?

Lady tried, once more, to hold onto her tears. They did not stay put like she had planned, making everything extremely fuzzy.

How she hated the feeling of _his_ sweat on _her_ skin. She felt dirty, and naked, and disgusted with him.

_Isn't Dante meant to be the perverted one?_

She threw the shower door open, letting it slam into the wall and shatter.

_Good. Maybe he'll have to pay for that._

She turned a knob, any bloody knob, to the shower at random - weather it was scalding hot or freezing cold she did not care. She needed to be clean again, and water would help her.

That and the fact she couldn't see the curly letters saying 'hot' or 'cold'.

She undid the pants with shaking fingers, and let a sob through her lips. She paused, Vergil's pants around her ankles and breathing haggard - then fell onto her knees and crawled into the shower. Was she finally weak enough not to stand? Probably. She didn't want to test the theory.

Glass sliced into her palms, causing quite a bit of pain. But she did not flinch away from it like any normal person would.

She did not care.

Shards dug into her knees, squirting blood all over the remnants of the glass wall. She saw her own blood making swirls of pink on the slick, white floor of the shower before being sucked into the drain.

She did not care.

The water was ice on her skin, chilling her to the bone and numbing her to the physical pain - the throbbing bruises, the marks Vergil's nails had made on her shoulders...

She did not care.

She did not care.

But those damning tears kept falling, hot, down her face, and although she told herself - _ordered, _herself - not to care, the fact still remained that she did care, she cared a whole damn lot.

Lady pulled her knees to her chest, feeling the cold, mind numbing water run over her like gentle fingertips.

_Vergil had gentle fingers, too. For a while._

She shook her head, trying to rid thoughts of Vergil from her mind. It was like he was still _inside_ her, and she couldn't get him out. She soaped up her hands before noticing that she was still in his shirt, with his pants still around her ankles, completely soaked. She sobbed then wrapped her arms around her knees for warmth. Blood rolled over her forearms, but once again, she did not care.

She did not notice.

She let another sob rip through her mouth, then buried her face in her arms. She didn't know what to think or do - she just felt. She lent her head back, closing her eyes, and continued to cry.

_I shouldn't be ashamed of my tears, 'cuz I'm the only one seeing them._ She reminded herself in a manner most uncalled for - annoyed.

All Lady tried to do was feel.

_Better get it out there now, before I have to go out there and face the big bad._

She felt the mortar, rough between the tiles, sting her bleeding palms as she ran a hand over it. She felt burning tears roll over her face. She felt the flare of anger die in her chest. She felt her lungs expand with a lungful of air, and a warm arm sliding around her shoulders.

Then all she felt was immense surprise.

Lady tried to elbow him, but she was sore, and tired, and he was half demon. He caught her arm, with absolutely no hesitation at all. Somewhere in Lady's subconscious, she heard a sword clatter to the ground.

"Let go of me!" her voice shot through an octave, and she tried to pull away from him - again - to be let down all the more when she couldn't. She rammed her knees together, perhaps in a desperate attempt at self defence, and squeezed her eyes shut tight. "Let me go!" she moaned, clawing at the hand that had latched itself onto her wrist.

She was still crying, damnit! She didn't want him to see her. "Let me go!" He couldn't see her, not now! She was supposed to be strong, supposed to be in control, supposed to be-

"My Lady is crying." Vergil said in a soft voice.

The way he said that, with such a sad, almost depressed and protective note in his voice, made Lady _want_ to cry.

But instead, Lady opened her eyes, but narrowed them soon after, wiping a hand over her eyelids.

"I don't cry!" she snarled through gritted teeth. "And I am not your Lady!" she tried once again to get him away from her. When that didn't happen, she bowed her head, and let a stampede of small sobs out, under her breath, as quietly as she could.

Vergil pulled her closer to his side, then reached up, and turned on the hot water.

Nothing was said.

Lady felt the tears continue to mar her otherwise controlled features. Vergil turned and put his nose in her hair, inhaling deeply. They were both getting soaked, and neither of them cared.

Lady refused to make eye contact with him. He could understand why; though it did not necessarily make him comfortable nor happy about the situation.

As they sat in silence, Lady tried to discreetly shuffle away from him. Every few minutes, she would make her move. And very few minutes, he would move with her.

She sighed, making her silent defeat known, and accepted.

Vergil reached up and turned both taps off, and was surprised when Lady allowed him to rewrap her tiny shoulders in his embrace.

"So what now?" she asked in a quiet voice - a much more feminine voice that Vergil had never heard her use before. It wasn't directed at him, as such; but he was going to answer anyway.

What _would _they do now?

"Well, sadly, my Lady," he mused, kissing her temple gently. "We must bid each other ado."

Lady sighed, and ran a hand over her face. "I am not _your_-"

"Yes you are." He interrupted, pulling her chin up. "You are _mine_."

Lady closed her mouth and frowned. She glowered up at him, her fingers beginning to curl into fists. "I am not yours." She scoffed. "I am not an object to be owned, you arrogant-"

"No, you are no mere object," he interrupted, narrowing his eyes slightly.

Lady wrenched her chin away from his grip, but did not look away.

"You posses a fire in the deepest recesses of your soul, my dearest Lady. A pathetic human stubbornness that only serves to amuse my fellow demon." Lady shook her head, and suppressed the dire need to roll her eyes.

Vergil's head tilted to the side, and for a moment - everything slowed to him. Lady's head, tipped back, leaning against the wall, slow droplets of excess water dribbling down the sides of her porcelain face in the most inviting manner. Her eyes closed, and she exhaled, her warm breath fanning across the side of his hand as it lay limply around her shoulders. Her eyelashes were long, and drooping with both the salty tears she had been crying - because of him - and the water she had tried to bathe herself in. His shirt, now dark grey in colour, clung to her ting biceps and shoulders, sticking to her like a wrinkly, second skin. Her throat was exposed to him. How close he was, to just reaching over and kissing the delicate membrane...

"The fire must be tamed. I have tamed your fire, therefore you belong to me." He continued slowly, as if he was trying to explain this to a child instead of a completely capable woman.

Lady snorted, and shook her head, eyes opening. "No one can tame my fire." She said in a kind of sour, yet smug voice. "I'm friggin' un-tameable."

He sighed, studying her through lowered eyelashes. "Perhaps. But that would also stand to reason why it is I want you so."

Lady let another shiver roll throughout her spine and turned her head to the side.

"You can let go of me now."

Vergil sighed once more, and thumbed her jaw line gently. "I'm afraid I can't."

"And why the fuck not?!"

**Vergil was a smart man, and Lady a wise woman. **

"Consider this, my Lady."

"I am not your Lady."

**There was not a lot of things they would hesitate to do. **

"I have come back from Hell, and kidnapped what my brother holds closest to his chest."

"Dante does not hold me to his chest, thank you very much."

**But, as Vergil stared into the bi coloured eyes of his Lady, he was hesitating. He was hesitating a lot.**

"He doesn't know I'm alive, nor in his realm."

"Which I guess is a good thing for the both of you, right?"

**He supposed that perhaps she could come to Hell with him.**

"Of course."

"Of course. Otherwise you'd all be fighting and I would miss out on any of the fun."

**But he couldn't bring himself to tell her that. He couldn't tell her that he wanted her to by him forever, his to own and touch. And perhaps adore. He couldn't have her hating him, either.**

"Fun?" he scoffed. "Of course not. I'd want you, and he would never have a word of it."

"Neither would I."

**He couldn't - wouldn't - allow himself to adore her, anyway. He couldn't have any weaknesses, as Dante did. As his father had. **

"So considering the facts, if we where to swap places, what would you do if you where me?"

Lady rolled her eyes. "Well, for starters, I would never had raped my own self - that would be very odd-"

**He wouldn't allow himself to love. It was just how he worked. He assumed he wouldn't know how, even if he tried. The very notion of the concept had his overly intellectual brain reeling, searching for answers to questions he did not want to ask.**

"Lady. Be serious."

Lady sighed, and looked up at the ceiling for a moment, pondering. He waited.

**He couldn't allow himself to wonder what his Lady was doing in the realm above him. He couldn't stand not knowing if she was being touched, or even ogled, by another man. **

Slowly, the realisation washed into Lady's brain. A small frown touched her lips and her eye brows dipped a little.

Vergil picked up his discarded Yamato from beside him, silently.

**He couldn't bring her to Hell. He couldn't have her out of his sight.**

"Vergil...?"

"Yes, my Lady?"

**He couldn't have her living under his brother's roof - where he knew she'd be protected, although groped on a daily basis.**

Lady's breathing came in a short, sharp gasps.

"You won't."

"But I must."

**He couldn't have her anywhere, but dead. **

Lady shot up and off the floor, stumbling in the pants around her ankles but diving away from the quite obviously homicidal man.

"You stay the fuck away from me!" she shrieked.

But he didn't want her to fear him - not now.

He caught her and held her tightly to his chest, kicking and screaming.

"You can't!"

"But I will."

She was shivering uncontrollably, hyperventilating. She was hitting at his arms with frantic fists, trying to dislodge him.

"This isn't fair! I don't have any weapons to defend myself with!" she yelled angrily.

"I know it isn't fair. I set it up precisely like this for a reason, my Lady."

She tried not to cry and prevailed - just.

"I am not." She sobbed, sagging in his arms. "I am not."

He sighed, and tipped her chin up to see her eyes - swimming with tears so close to the surface. If he had his way, she would never cry.

"I am aware of the injustice of this all." He said in her ear, so warmly, that Lady almost forgot that he was about to kill her. "I whish I had an ultimatum."

"Then give yourself one!" she cried out, taking both of them by surprise and holding his face in her hands, pulling his forehead to touch hers.

"Don't do it!" she snarled. Though her hands were shaking, they were gentle, and like everything about her - _so devastatingly human._

"But." He faltered, then sighed. "I must."

"Why?" her voice broke, and tears threatened to overflow.

"Because."

"Because why? You think I'll... I don't know... fall for Dante? Is that it? You want me to be yours, Vergil, but the fact of the matter is, I'm not, and never will be. And neither will Dante! Don't you get that? You kill me, you've conquered nothing."

Vergil's bottom lip trembled, but his face remained composed.

"I know. It is rather frustrating."

"You're telling me."

He pulled her head under his chin, and waited until her heartbeat matched his for perfect rhythm. He kissed her forehead, gently.

His Lady sighed, and wrapped her arms around his waist, hands curled into fists so tight her nails bit into the already bleeding skin.

It was a bitter sweet moment, where Lady felt at peace in his embrace, somehow wordlessly content.

Could she ever want him the way he wanted her?

Vergil theorised that in her last moments on Earth, she considered it. But he would never know.

"You will _always_ be mine, my Lady."

She took a breath, perhaps to protest - but he silenced her with a sharp twist of her head.

He lay her down on the bed, wiping a small tear away from her cheek, then his.

He sighed, then lowered down to stare at her closed eyes.

He waited for them to flicker open. He waited for her to breathe. He did not dare listen for her heart, fearing the worst.

But he knew how fragile humans were. He knew he had twisted her head sharp enough to kill any normal human.

He clenched his teeth, gathered his things - stripping Lady of his clothing, placing her under the covers. He left with only a glance back at the Lady - _his_ Lady...

Forever.


End file.
